


Kick Him When He's Down

by bottledyarn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledyarn/pseuds/bottledyarn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is bullied at school, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Originally posted on my tumblr gibberish-fiction. -

It started with a few nasty comments in the cafeteria and locker rooms. The locker rooms were the worst- you’d be so vulnerable, open to abuse and torment because you’re literally exposed more than any other time. Even though technically that shouldn’t matter, it made everything sting a little bit more. One thing that people usually respected was privacy when you were changing, and for people to need to be cruel so much that they would break that unspoken rule…it was a little painful. 

The backhanded questions made him cringe, but when people got a little more forward, a little less subtle, it was then that it made him flinch, feeling hated. Some of the things people would call him didn’t even make sense. A few people would yell at him, screaming about God’s special punishment for gay people. A few misguided people would inform him that he had a disease, that he needed to seek help. Those people scared him- they genuinely believed in what they said, they even thought it was polite to say these things to him.

Most of the people abusing him were once friends. A handful had even been close friends, people he trusted and expected to stand up for him. And now they were the ones he needed protection from. His dearest friends were oblivious. They knew that he was gay; he’d told them as soon as the rumors started spreading. But they hadn’t yet noticed the abuse he was receiving from everyone but them.

He wasn’t entirely sure where the general knowledge had come from- it went from a huge secret, one that nobody knew, to something everyone in the school knew. His parents didn’t even know yet- luckily no parents of the bullies had decided to inform them. 

Every day had become a complex battle- first he had to put on a happy face for his family, get dressed in some way that wouldn’t provoke the abusers any more, then he would go to school, sit alone on the bus, get yelled at and jabbed with sharp fingers on his way to classes…sit alone at lunch, since his friends weren’t in the same lunch wave, act happy during the class he had with his friends (that luckily didn’t have any of the bullies in it) and then endure a few more hours of abuse before returning home and putting on another happy face.

It was all going perfectly- he’d keep up the happy charade for his friends and family. It worked well- a big smile went a long way. His parents were still unaware of his sexuality, and his friends had no clue about the bullying.

Harry woke up on April thirtieth without any thoughts out of the ordinary. He woke up, rolled out of bed and threw on a button-up plaid shirt and jeans, making his way to school silently.

It was in the hallway, on the way to his first class, that the day turned so much worse than usual. He was walking along, silently strolling with his bag on his back, clutching his I-pod and hoping that nobody would bother him. People whispered upon his passing like normal- he barely even noticed anymore. 

He rounded the corner into the science wing like he did every day, his head ducked slightly so he could avoid the prying gazes of those around him. He didn’t expect to run into someone. He apologized quietly, shifting out of the way and was about to keep walking when somebody punched him in the stomach. The feeling of having your breath knocked away was overpowering, and he sunk to his knees, unable to remain standing. 

He thought that maybe, just maybe, that would be it, that they would leave him on the ground. But then somebody shoved him onto his side and his I-pod flew out of his hands. Someone ripped his bag off, throwing it down the hallway, letting its contents spin out across the linoleum.

And the kicking started. He could really tell how many people were doing it, but when he glanced up, he saw a crowd of blurry faces that darkened out the fluorescent lights. His glance was rewarded with a violent kick to his face that, accompanied with a skimming blow to his windpipe, resulted with him losing consciousness.

Harry was almost glad that he fell unconscious- while it did open him up to more kicking, since he couldn’t curl into a ball, he couldn’t feel anything anymore. Until he woke up.

He woke up to the familiar bright lights of the school, immediately knowing that he wasn’t in a hospital, as they didn’t have quite as atrocious lighting. 

Harry could tell his eyes were swollen, as he couldn’t quite open them. His entire body burned, as though they’d lit him on fire and not kicked. His face hurt the worst, a bright pain in his cheek. His chest hurt, too, a dull ache in his side.

He could hear a loud conversation around him- they sounded like they were trying to be quiet, but their whispers were slowly escalating into yells. It was unmistakably the nurse, arguing with Louis about…something.

He couldn’t quite focus enough on their conversation, could only recognize their voices. Niall shouted something, only to be shushed by Liam. 

Harry finally managed to get his eyes open, which was received with a flurry of action. Suddenly there were five faces peering down at him, all looking terribly concerned.

“Are you okay?” Zayn asked, eyes wide.

Harry nodded, trying to sit up. The nurse pushed him back down gently, shaking her head. 

“Don’t sit up. You may have suffered head trauma.”

“What happened after I passed out?” Harry asked, pressing a hand against his cheek, wincing at the sting.

“Don’t touch,” the nurse said, handing him an ice pack. “Hold this against it.”

“What happened?” Harry repeated.

“We were walking around and then we heard a lot of yelling…and then we found a big group of people, and you were lying in the middle, so we called the principal over and he broke it up,” Liam said. “And then we brought you here.”

“How bad is it?” Harry asked.

They all avoided his eyes and looked instead towards the ceiling. Harry sighed and got up; waving away the nurse’s fluttering.

He walked slowly over to a small mirror, wincing at the pain in his legs. His right ankle felt dreadful, like it was sprained or something. His entire face was red, with large scratches decorating his forehead. His eyes were swollen almost completely shut, and large bumps were all over. His sore cheek was split slightly, bulging and scarlet. 

Harry stepped back and sat down on the small bed again, pulling up his jeans to see his legs. His ankle was puffy, and large bruises were blossoming up and down his calves. 

Louis reached over and pulled the hem back down, covering the injuries. Harry looked up at him, seeing how his lip was quivering slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. 

Zayn barked a harsh laugh. “I’m going to kill those people.”

“Hopefully they’ll get expelled,” Liam said. “There are rules against this.”

“They can’t expel ten people at once,” Niall said. “They’ll probably just get suspended.”

Harry fingered his split lip subconsciously, not noticing the pain he was causing himself.

“Stop,” Louis said, pulling his hand back down. “You’ll make it worse.”

“I don’t have to go to the hospital, do I?” Harry asked.

“I think you may have a broken rib, concussion, and slightly broken ankle… just a small fissure,” the nurse said. “There’s an ambulance on the way.”

“An ambulance?” Harry sighed. “That will surely help the situation.”

“We just want to make sure you’re alright,” Zayn said. “You looked dead when we found you.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve been put through a washing machine,” Louis said. “You’re not fine.”

“Why did they do this, anyway?” Niall asked, frowning.

Harry laughed. “They all think I deserve to die for being gay.”

“You’re joking. They nearly killed you because of your sexuality?” Liam asked. “Why haven’t there been issues before now? Why did they go from not caring to a mob?”

“They have been bothered. People have been threatening me and calling me names since they found out,” Harry said.

“Why didn’t you say something?” the nurse gasped. “Those children should be expelled!”

“The teachers wouldn’t believe me. I’m not a perfect student or anything.”

“We have a zero-tolerance program for bullies,” the nurse said. “They are obligated to do something.” 

Zayn scoffed. “They see bullying every day, they just ignore it.”  
The nurse pursed her lips and shook her head. “That’s awful.”

“Well, maybe they’ll tighten their watch after this.”

“Probably not. They don’t care about gay hate crimes,” Liam said bitterly. “They’re pricks.”

The nurse sighed and walked over to her desk, fiddling around with a few things while they waited for the ambulance.

After a long, uneasy silence, the phone finally rang and delivered the news that the ambulance had arrived. Zayn and Louis held Harry’s arms and helped him limp down to the front of the school. Harry refused the stretcher the EMT’s wheeled out, and he rode to the hospital sitting in the back.

The other guys had begged the nurse to let them go with him, and she finally relented, saying she would write in that they’d gone home sick.

Harry had never had to go the nurse before, but she seemed lovely during this strange exchange. 

The ride to the hospital was incredibly long, and the doctors started fussing the second he got in.

Harry went home with the diagnosis of a broken rib, a badly sprained ankle, a very slight concussion, and had three stitches on his cheek.

His parents freaked out, obviously. They demanded to know why he was beaten up- his mother was terrified that he’d joined a gang or started doing drugs. He didn’t tell them. He said that he’d bumped into the wrong person and they’d overreacted about it.

That was true. It just left out a few details.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry went back to school after a week, bandages still tight around his torso, crutches under his arms. People gave him a wide berth in the hallway, but they still smirked as if this ordeal was amusing to them. He supposed that to them, it was amusing.

He got to school early so that he could avoid most people in the halls, but the people that were there all followed him, trying to assess his damage. He kept his head high, moving straight, trying to get to his class as early as possible.

Harry didn’t really expect anything to happen, since teachers had to be on alert. But somebody kicked his crutch out on his left side, and he went down hard, falling onto his butt. 

A few people giggled and kept walking, so he got up without a word and rushed to his class. 

He wouldn’t mention the brief instance to his friends- why worry them, if he wasn’t hurt? Admittedly, his broken rib hurt when he fell, but it didn’t seem to have lasting damage. 

Louis did a little dance when he walked in, trying to make Harry smile. Harry did smile, but it wasn’t instinctual, he forced it to make Louis happy. Louis accepted it and sat down, smiling brightly.

“How was your first day back?” Louis asked cheerily.

“Fine,” Harry said quietly.

Louis’ face darkened slightly, his grin dropping off. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Harry, I know you’re lying,” Louis said, crossing his arms.

“What is Harry lying about?” Liam asked, strolling in and dropping his backpack. “Why are you guys here so early?”

“You are too,” Louis reminded him. “I just asked Harry how his morning was, and he said ‘fine’ in a sad little voice.”

“It was not a sad little voice.”

“What happened?” Liam asked.

Harry shook his head. “I just fell, it’s fine.”

Louis let out a frustrated sigh. “Did someone trip you?”

“No, my crutch just slipped out.”

“Because somebody kicked it,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Goddamn it.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry said, readjusting his bandages through his shirt. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Like last time? That big accident, whoops, a bunch of people just happened to have leg seizures around a gay kid who happened to be lying on the ground unconscious?” Louis snapped harshly. “Do you realize that they’re not even expelled? Not even suspended. They had a Saturday detention, that’s it.”

Harry shrugged. “They can’t really prove anything. My injuries could have been just from a fall, and by the time teachers got there, everyone had stopped, right?”

“You don’t get black eyes and a cut cheek from falling down,” Liam said. “The administration just doesn’t care enough to investigate an anti-gay hate crime. They don’t want to get mixed up in a big, horrid thing.”

Zayn and Niall walked in together, Niall brightening when he spotted them, Zayn’s brow furrowing slightly.

“What’s up?” Niall asked.

“We were just talking about how the kids who beat Harry up got away with it,” Liam said. “Isn’t it ridiculous?”

Zayn’s jaw shifted slightly, tightening. “I wish we could beat them up.”

“Yeah, and then we’d get in trouble,” Harry said. “They’re not afraid to act on something that seems simply like a group of boys beating up another group of boys.”

“Well, they weren’t all boys, you know,” Niall said. “There were three girls.”

Harry shook his head. “For some reason I didn’t expect that. The girls weren’t as cruel before that.”

“Girls have a different sort of cruelty,” Louis said. “Not to be sexist, but I think they tend to gossip and spread rumors and ostracize people more than just insult and beat up people. Obviously, they do beat people up…but, you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I have the list of people,” Zayn said, reaching for a paper in his bag. “So that we can be sure not to be nice to them and all.”

The list was scrawled on the back of a restaurant receipt in harsh, firmly written pen. 

Jennifer Orzechowski

Henry Morris

Jared Parker

Matthew Carlson

Quinby Teta

Mary Simmons

Joseph Morgan

Elliot Newman

“I think there were more people than that involved,” Niall said, reading the list over Harry’s shoulder. “They probably ran off.”

“I can’t believe Elliot Newman was involved…” Harry said. “He’s so nice.”

“Actually, I heard that he got in trouble because when the teachers got there, Elliot was beating the crap out of Seth Perry,” Louis said. “So Seth got off because Elliot was beating him up…but he did get beaten up, so…”

Harry smiled slightly. “I’ll have to find out if that’s true and then thank him.”

A few people drifted in then, it getting close to the bell. The teacher came in just as the bell was ringing, pursing his lips at Harry. He rolled his eyes and sat at his desk at the front of the room. 

“I know that there is a lot of…drama going on, and I will not be having any of it pollute this classroom. So don’t even start.”

Louis raised his eyebrows at Harry, scribbling something on a piece of paper and passing it over. 

Mr. Wilson’s been complaining about how ‘over dramatic’ everyone’s been about this. He’s a complete prat.

Harry frowned. Mr. Wilson had always been fairly nice- not his favorite teacher, but a bearable, regular teacher person. Maybe he was anti-gay or homophobic?

The class went on normally until the morning announcements came on. After the pledge of allegiance, the principal came on to speak.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is Mr. Turner, I need to make a few announcements. Everything seems to have been going well these last few days at Trinity Catholic High, and I am especially proud of the Trinity Football Lions, who scored five goals and subsequently won the state championship on Wednesday. And there’s an extra special luncheon for the most valuable players today!”

The principal paused as if the rev up excitement. “Wondering who the MVPs are? Here are the names…Henry Morris! Jared Parker! Sam Ostillo! And, last but not least, Jake Topher! Will those students please report to the office instead of lunch today?”

There was an awkward pause in the room. Harry glanced over at Zayn, who was fuming silently. Two of those boys were on the list from the incident, the kids who’d gotten detentions. Could this be why they weren’t suspended, because of a footy game?

Harry shook his head slightly, letting out a short huff. 

“I also have to make a few more serious notes to cover today. I hate to have to remind all of you that this is a private Catholic high school, and we expect a certain level of poise and properness during and after school hours. I am seriously disappointed in certain students this week. There are some activities that this school does not condone, and if these actions are repeated or even require attention again, students involved will be expelled.”

Harry smiled over at Louis, grateful that the principal had made a threat.

“We have decided to have mandatory seminars about these issues today. So, students, once your third class is finished, please report to your home classrooms where you usually have monthly advisory.

“That’s all for this morning, and remember- the lions are the kings!”

Harry grinned, dropping the smile when Mr. Wilson glared at him.

“Now, since that unnecessary interruption has ceased, let’s get back to learning,” Mr. Wilson said bitterly, clenching his teeth.

Harry grimaced and turned down to his desk, focusing solely on education for the rest of the class. The bell finally rang, and Harry hopped up onto his good foot, working on getting his crutches suited properly. His friends lingered, trying to help, but he shooed them on, working his way around the desks.

“Mr. Styles,” the teacher said suddenly. “I expect you to not let your accident get in the way of your learning.”

“My…accident?” Harry said uncertainly. “Sir…”

“Do you understand me?”

“Well, yeah, but what if I need to go to the nurse?”

“You’re not that injured, I’m sure you can stomach it,” Mr. Wilson said. “Be a man and all.”

Harry stared at the man for a moment before turning and continuing out, working his way into the steady flow of students in the hall.

The rest of the day passed without incident. One lovely girl named Natalie spoke to him in his third class.

“I think that those kids that beat you up deserve to have a bomb dropped on them,” Natalie said in a quiet, rather demure voice. “I’m sure glad that Elliot beat up Seth.” 

Harry turned to her, surprised. Natalie was that one girl that never said anything, just strolled around absently and seemed to be intelligent.

“Thanks?” Harry said, slightly confused.

Natalie smiled, something that Harry had never seen before. “It’s a good thing the school’s doing something. I kind of expected them to not care, since homosexuality is against the Bible or whatever.”

“I’m surprised, too. Pleasantly so, of course.”

“I hope people stop bothering you,” Natalie said, turning away from Harry. 

“Thanks,” Harry said, a little more certain that it was the appropriate response.

The bell rang shortly after that, and Harry started the slow trudge to the seminar. Luckily, Louis was in his group because of their close last names, so Harry sat next to him, glancing around for the teacher to enter.

Finally one of the teachers came in, placing a Bible on a podium at the front of the room. The students looked up at the man silently, waiting for the seminar to begin.

“While you are all still young, temptation beckons at every bend,” the teacher said. “And it may seem like a few sins won’t hurt, but they are sins, and they will result in Hell.”

Harry shot a glance at Louis. This sure was starting off with a bang.

“Pre marital sex is becoming common among teenagers, and this is an awful thing. What is obviously much worse is that it is branching out into even more dangerous territory.”

Harry felt himself frowning, beginning to wonder what was going on.

“Man shall not lie with man as he lies with woman. God has told us that this is wrong, and yet certain people are still disobeying this unbending law. We will not continue to host students at this school who are blatantly disobeying. Homosexuality,” the man bit out the word like a swear. “Is terrible, and if certain students do not correct their behavior to what is natural, they will be removed from this institution.”

The teacher looked over at Harry pointedly.

“The administration will be watching certain individuals carefully, and if anything more comes to light, action will be taken. What is natural and accepted by God is what this school supports. Do not breach these borders under any circumstance.”

The teacher stepped back from the podium. “Any questions?”

The class was silent, staring at the man. Louis rose his hand, and Harry turned to him, trying to urge him through an expression to not get himself in trouble.

“Is violence against the Bible?” Louis asked.

“Yes,” the teacher said. “Of course.”

“Well, I’ve been concerned about violence at school, so I was just wondering why you haven’t spoken about violence yet.”

The teacher glared at him. “We have no reason to be concerned with violence. You are all dismissed.”

Louis stood up, pulling Harry to his feet (foot). “I can’t believe this,” Louis said. “I hate this school.”

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his crutches. “I suppose I should have expected this,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to stop acting so gay.”

“Oh, yeah, because you’re always dating so many guys,” Louis said sarcastically. “You’re like a nun. They should be more worried about some of the straight kids, they’re the promiscuous ones.”

“You calling yourself promiscuous?” Harry asked, laughing as they worked their way out of the classroom.

Louis glanced at him briefly and paused. “I’m the exception.”

Harry searched Louis’ eyes for a moment. He’d hesitated on that question. What was Louis hiding?

“Do you have a secret girlfriend that you haven’t told us about?” Harry asked incredulously. “You minx!”

Louis blushed, ducking his head down. “No.”

“Yes, you do!” Harry exclaimed, trying to keep up with two-footed Louis. “This is so scandalous.”

“I really don’t,” Louis said. “I’ll see you later, Hazza.”

Harry gave him a tiny wave without releasing a crutch and went in the opposite direction from Louis.

Harry went home, struggling with his steep driveway after he inched his way off of the bus. He opened the door and called out, announcing his arrival back home.

“What the fuck, Harry?”

Harry moved into the living room, staring at his parents. “What?”

“We just got a phone call from the school. Apparently they’re concerned that you are becoming ‘indecent’, ‘promiscuous’, and becoming uncommitted to the Catholic religion? What is going on with you?”

Harry stared incredulously at his parents. “ I've never even been kissed!” Harry exclaimed. “How am I promiscuous?”

His father pursed his lips. “They are claiming that there is substantial evidence that you are engaging in homosexual sex.”

“What?” Harry yelled. “ I've literally never even kissed someone!”  
His mother crossed her arms. “What about the homosexual part?”

“I…”

“You better answer your mother right now,” his father said sharply.

“Fine, Mum, Dad. You got me, I’m gay. Big fucking whoop. But I am not going around having sex, being promiscuous, or sinning.”

Harry didn’t see it coming. It surprised him, a sudden burn on his cheek. His father had slapped him.

“You’re not gay anymore, Harold. You will not humiliate us with your attempt to be ‘special’! I will not have a gay son.” His father hissed, his face bright red.

Harry took a deep breath. “Good job, that scared the gay bacteria right out my ass. Thanks, Dad, I’m all set now, I’ll start banging girls left and right like every other straight teenager.”

He stormed out, making sure to slam his bedroom door when he entered.

His own parents refused to accept him. How was it that his friends were the only supportive ones? Weren’t teenage relationships supposed to be fragile, inconsequential, meaningless? So why were his supposedly temporary friends being the only ones being anything but cruel to him?

To have your own parents forsake you…it almost made Harry wish he weren't gay, were just normal and didn't have to worry about all of this. 

But that wasn't going to happen, because Harry knew that he didn't like girls, and there was no changing that. It would be like changing your blood type. He couldn't do it. But if his parents and school would attack him if he didn't change…he could fake it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Could you be my pretend girlfriend by any chance?”

Harry started out the conversation that way, keeping himself from getting distracted or backing down.

Natalie raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“My parents,” Harry said simply. “And the school.”

“Sure,” Natalie said. “We just have to go to dinner or something and tell everyone we’re dating, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Thank you so much.”

“Anytime,” Natalie said. “Were your parents really rough on you?”

“My dad slapped me,” Harry said truthfully.

Natalie looked at him for a moment and then nodded slowly. “I’ll help you for as long as you need.”

Harry introduced Natalie to his parents two days later, telling them that the ‘gay thing’ was just a phase and that he was really just scared of asking Natalie out all along.

His mother was ecstatic, taking pictures of the two together and handing out hugs left and right. His father was slightly skeptical, but seemed to relax after they all had dinner together.

The abuse towards Harry stopped after two weeks of him and Natalie walking around hand in hand. Harry’s friends were the only ones who knew it was fake, and they worked hard to make sure nobody doubted the relationship.

The teachers stopped staring at Harry, accepting that the whole thing was a big misunderstanding. One even patted him on the back, telling him he’d ‘done well’. Their ‘relationship’ lasted for months, from November to April. 

But finally Natalie told him she couldn’t do it anymore, because Elliot had confessed to her and she wanted to actually go out with him. Harry didn’t really mind. Four months had to be enough to convince his parents, and it was Natalie’s right to opt out of the deal.

His parents were disappointed, as they’d liked Natalie, but they accepted it when Harry said that she wanted to focus on her academics more. Everything stayed perfect for an entire month after that, until Harry made one tiny mistake, fell out of his straight façade for just one moment.

He was at a small coffee shop by himself and had happened to start talking to a guy, who said he was from the public school. The guy’s name was Joey, and he was awesome; sweet and happy.

They were sitting together; both leaned slightly over the small table, when a group of people from Harry’s school strolled in. One of them spotted Harry and walked over, smirking.

“Who’s this?” they asked- Harry thought the boy’s name was Zach, but he wasn’t sure.

“My friend,” Harry said. “Do you mind?”

“You were sitting awfully close for friends, gay boy,” Zach said, grinning like he was a witty comedian.

Joey glanced confusedly between Zach and Harry. “We were just talking.”

Zach rolled his eyes. “You know, we all know Natalie was a beard. She told her friend Bethany. Don’t think that you can pretend to be normal, it isn’t working.”

Harry closed his eyes. Natalie had promised not to tell anyone. He wouldn’t get mad at her, but it was still just…

Letting out a breath, Harry shook his head. “Can you please just leave us alone?”

Zach laughed and sauntered away. “See you in school tomorrow!” he called.

Joey stared after him, looking concerned. “Is that the kind of people you go to school with?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Lots of fun.”

“Sounds like it…” Joey shrugged. “Nobody cares about sexuality at my school. It’s pretty liberal.”

“That sounds great,” Harry said. “I wish I could go there, but my parents are terrified that I’d either get stabbed or get involved with drugs or something.”

Joey laughed. “That makes public school sound so awful!”

Harry smiled slightly. It was nice, to meet another person who legitimately did not care about him being gay. When Harry had told his friends, they looked slightly surprised, but just shrugged and moved on with life, not changing the way they behaved around him. It felt liberating, to be treated like a normal person.

The group of kids from school was leaving with their drinks, and one of them- Pete- decided it was appropriate to give Harry a shove with one hand, hitting his head against the wall.

Joey stood up abruptly, making his chair bang against the ground. “What the hell was that for?” he asked angrily.

Pete turned around, grinning. “He’s a fag.”

Joey’s face darkened and he lunged at Pete, his fist cracking against Pete’s nose sharply.

Pete’s head was flung to the side, and when he turned back, his nose was bleeding and a little crooked looking. Harry watched in alarm as three of the others from the little pack launched towards Joey, but several of the servers managed to stop them, ushering them out of the shop.

Harry was surprised when they let Joey stay, but then one of the baristas apologized for letting ‘uncivilized bullies’ into the shop, so they’d obviously heard the exchange.

“You shouldn’t have hit him,” Harry said quietly.

Joey looked incredulous. “He slammed your head into the wall!”

“Yeah, and now they’ll probably half kill me again,” Harry said, sighing.

“Again?”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, isn’t it lovely? But don’t blame yourself, it was bound to happen eventually.”

Harry stood up, finishing his coffee and tossing the paper cup in the trash. “Thanks for not acting like I’m a freak,” Harry said, giving a little wave to him.

Joey had stood up too, and he was shaking his head. “I can’t believe that they treat you like that. My friend Charlie is gay, and nobody’s ever said one word to him about it.”

“I guess that’s what I get for going to a private Catholic school,” Harry said. “Bye.”

Harry took a long time going home, as if that would delay the arrival of the next day. It didn’t- the morning came all too quickly, and he woke up at six so that he could get to school an hour early, get to his class without conflict.

The entire day went perfectly. Nobody said anything weird to him or even gave him a sideways glance. But as he was leaving the school at the end of the day, someone shouted ‘fag’ from across the hallway.

He didn’t turn, just kept walking, not making eye contact.

“Why don’t you just kill yourself?” A girl asked him as he passed her. She and her friends giggled, watching him walk away.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Harry turned slightly, seeing that Zayn was the one who had spoken to the girl. Zayn caught up to him quickly, falling in step. 

“What happened?” Zayn asked.

“Zach and Pete and a few other guys saw me at a coffee shop with a guy from the public school…plus, Natalie told her friend that she was a beard, and that friend told everyone,” Harry said quietly. “It’s fine.”

“Don’t start saying things are fine again,” Zayn said. “This is not going to end like last time; you’re not getting hurt a second time.”

“I just don’t know how to avoid it,” Harry said. “I’m not exactly provoking it.”

Zayn glanced at him, pressing his lips together. “Have they told the school you were faking?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “But if they have, I’ve got a fantastic evening to look forward to.”

“I think they would’ve said something,” Zayn said. “I bet the kids aren’t telling on you because they think it’s more amusing to torture you.”

“That’s encouraging,” Harry said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Harry turned for his bus, waving back at Zayn. Zayn smiled back with a wave, and Harry jumped up the stairs to his bus, sitting towards the front. 

His parents hadn’t heard from the school, so the evening was uneventful. Harry considered asking his parents if he could transfer schools…but there weren’t any other private schools nearby, and public was not going to happen.

Harry ended up going to bed earlier than usual; wanting to be wide awake for school, better to be alert and not run into somebody again. It didn’t really work; he was still exhausted in the morning. It became hard to sleep when you knew that all you had to look forward to was being tormented, yelled at, and ignored.

He looked tired- his eyes had dark bags underneath, his face was pale, his hair uncooperative and tangled around his face. He honestly didn’t care enough to fix himself up- maybe that would put the other kids off some; maybe they would assume a gay guy would be more put together.

People stopped sitting near him in class. That was certainly a new development, all of the desks around him suddenly abandoned, everyone grouped far away from him as if his ‘disease’ was catching.

Harry actually hated the ostracism more than the torment- at least when they were yelling, hitting, they still acknowledged that he was a human, a living person. But with everyone ignoring him, he felt invisible, like he didn’t deserve to be there at all. Most people had started treating him normally during the Natalie months, but one slip and suddenly they were all treating him like Typhoid Harry. 

He refused to let himself feel bad, though. Even when he had to ask for an erasure and the girl- the usually sweet girl- that he asked for it wouldn’t lend it to him because ‘his gay germs would get on it’.

Harry had to swallow hard, holding back uncomfortably hot tears. This wasn’t like last time. Was this worse, because they all knew that he tried to trick them for months, and it actually worked?

At the end of the very long day, Harry took his time leaving the classroom, and when he finally did leave the room, Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam suddenly fell into step around him, their faces solemn and somewhat angry.

“What are you guys doing?” Harry asked, glancing nervously at the circle of his friends around him.

Niall stepped slightly closer, trying to be quiet. “We heard a bunch of kids talking about catching you after school and ‘sending you a message’.”

“One of them was trying to put tacks in his shoes,” Louis said. “So we…we decided to catch you first and escort you to your bus.”

Harry looked around at the other kids in the hall, trying to pick out the ones who had been part of the plot. “Is this going to be an everyday thing?”

“If it is an everyday thing, then this-” Liam gestured at their protective circle. “Will be, too.”  
Harry smiled at his friends. “What if they decide to attack you guys? Guilt by association and all that?”

“If you’re getting beaten up, so should we. We’re your best friends, Harry, we’re not going to let this happen to you, no matter what,” Zayn said. “I honestly don’t care if they try to hurt me.”

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

They broke off, splitting towards their individual buses.

This went on for a few weeks- at the end of every day, the four boys would surround Harry and walk him to his bus. They got glares and angry mutters in return, but they kept true to their word and kept walking with him.

The school found out again- Harry knew immediately, as all of his teachers stopped calling on him. Fortunately his parents didn’t believe the school- the months with Natalie had convinced them. Harry told them that the kids who told the school that he really was gay were bullies, which was, of course, true, and his parents got mad at the kids instead of him.

Harry got used to it all- being ignored, being occasionally tripped or insulted, and getting escorted into and out of school, and it all became very routine. 

So when Harry got to school to be met by only Louis and Zayn, he was fairly confused.

“Are Liam and Niall sick?” Harry asked. “I mean- not that you guys have to do this, it’s just that, they’re always here.”

Louis and Zayn were silent, and Harry took a moment to really look at their faces. Louis’ eyes were downcast, and Zayn’s mouth was slightly turned down.

“What happened?” Harry asked, scared of the answer.

“The school called our parents,” Zayn said. “And told them that we’ve been associating with you to an ‘inappropriate extent’.”

“And Liam and Niall’s parents told the school to have the teachers make sure that they didn’t sit, talk, or walk with you anymore. Liam said his parents made him choose between that and being sent to his family in the country. Niall had the choice between this and a boarding school.”

Harry shook his head slightly. “What about your parents?”

“Mine don’t give a crap,” Zayn said. “They sent me here to keep me out of drug involvement, they don’t care if I’m trying to protect a gay friend.”

“Mine just said ‘If you are gay, you better adopt kids, because we expect grandkids from you’,” Louis said. “So…we’re not leaving you.”

“I wish I had your parents,” Harry said. “That sounds great.”

“Just don’t be alarmed when Niall and Liam don’t talk to you,” Zayn said. “Literally every teacher has their eye out.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I won’t try to talk to them.”

They were walking down the hall at a brisk pace, trying to rush, since three people weren’t nearly as intimidating as five.

A vice principal suddenly stepped in front of them, stopping them in their tracks.

“We’ve had several complaints about this group,” he- Mr. Delaney- said. “Students are saying that it is ‘gang-like’ and is inducing fear in the students.”

Apparently the school wouldn’t rest with Zayn and Louis’ parents’ approval of their friends. They had to get involved, separate Harry from all of his friends, perhaps trying to isolate the problem like he needed to be quarantined.

“What happens if we stay together? There’re only three of us,” Louis said.

“The administration will not allow you to continue terrorizing the other students. Severe punishment will be used if your group does not stop ‘stalking down the hallways’.”

Mr. Delaney raised his eyebrows at them until Zayn and Louis shifted away from Harry and started walking away, shooting terrified and apologetic glances back at him.

“I’m glad you’re so concerned for the welfare of the students,” Harry said. “Sir,” he added, nodding his head before passing the teacher and entering his classroom.

Harry couldn’t predict the future, but he was fairly certain of how things would turn out now that he had no support, no friends, and no protection. Maybe he’d start wearing padded clothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry hadn’t walked through the hallways alone in a very long time. It felt strange and empty. He didn’t really expect to make it through the day without an incident, but other than a few jeers, nothing happened.

The relief he felt was almost overpowering. When he stepped into his house and knew that he was safe, at least for the day, he let out a breath. His phone ringing moments after made him jump, and he checked the caller ID before answering. 

“Hey, Lou,” he said into the phone. “What’s going on?”

“This is Louis,” a woman said. “This is Louis’ mother. Louis is in the hospital.”

Harry froze, clutching the phone a little too tightly. “What?”

“It’s nothing serious,” she said. “He got in a fight at school and broke a finger…he wanted me to call and ask you to come down to the hospital. It’s the one on Center.”

“He’s really okay?” Harry asked weakly.

“Mmhmm…do you have any idea why he would get in a fight? The administration said that other students have filed complaints about Louis recently, and that they’re considering suspending him.”

Harry swallowed. “Louis and Zayn have been escorting me around school, and the other students got…mad, so they’ve registered complaints about us being a gang.”

“Is this about the same thing the school called me about earlier?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Louis’ mum huffed on the other end. “Two children trying to protect their friend from abuse is not indecent nor is it gang-like.”

“The school doesn’t feel that way. They’re not allowed to walk with me any more.”

She remained quiet for a moment. “Are you going to come down to the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’ll be down soon.”

“Good.”

Harry hung up and sighed before scrawling a note to his parents, telling them that he was visiting a sick friend. He had to take two trains to get to the hospital, so it took a little while, but he finally got there, finding Louis sitting in one of the small examination rooms with a tiny silver box being fitted over his middle finger.

“Hey, Harry!” Louis exclaimed. “Look at this!”

Harry managed a smile, standing just inside the doorway. The nurse finished fiddling with the clamps and left. Louis’ mother was standing off to the side in the room, her face showing her obvious worry.

“Mum, do you mind letting me talk to Harry for a second?” Louis asked, smiling brightly.

She nodded, brushing past Harry to the hall, closing the door behind her.

Louis’ face fell immediately. “They didn’t get to you, did they?” he demanded. “You look fine, are you okay?”

“Yeah, nothing happened today…” Harry said. “What happened to you?”

“I saw a group of kids following you, so I fell into step with them and heard them whispering about exact timing and all…and I punched one of them when they said they wanted to try and break your ankle ‘for real’.”

Harry sat down next to Louis on the examination table. “And you broke your finger?”

“Yeah, apparently I don’t punch right. But the guy passed out.” Louis said quietly. “I’m going to be suspended…so you’ll only have Zayn with you for a while.”

“I’ll be fine,” Harry said. “If things get really bad, I’ll figure something out.”

“What if they go too far?” Louis asked, casting his gaze down.

Harry paused. “I don’t know. I’ll just hope for the best.”

Louis sniffed and sat still for a long moment before suddenly lunging over at Harry, hugging him from the side with his head pressed into Harry’s shoulder.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Louis said miserably. “This sucks.”

Harry sat still, Louis’ arms clutching at his jacket. “I’m sorry.”

Louis let out a strangled sob, pressing his face harder into Harry’s arm. “What if you die?”

Harry shook his head, lifting a hand to Louis’ arm. Louis was voicing all of Harry’s own fears, and it made this that much harder. “I’ll be okay.”

Louis finally let go and stood up, brushing at the bottoms of his eyes. “It’s not fair!” he exclaimed, kicking a small plastic trashcan.

Harry slid off the table and grabbed Louis’ shoulders, holding him still. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

“No it isn’t!” Louis shouted, his voice cracking. “Nothing’s fine any more!”

“Louis,” Harry said quietly. “It’s all okay.”

“I’m scared,” Louis said. “I’m so scared, Harry.”

Harry almost laughed- he, the one being attacked, was the comforter. He supposed it was only fair, for his closest friends to break down. He couldn’t expect them to stay stoic and perfect throughout this.

Harry hugged Louis tightly; each of Louis’ panicked sobs making him flinch. The door opened then and Louis’ mum peeked in, looking concerned. Harry met her eyes, shaking his head slightly. Louis didn’t notice the exchange, his head buried in Harry’s chest. She left again, closing the door silently.

Harry let go of Louis and stepped back. “It will all come out fine, I promise.”

Louis wiped his face, trying to hide the blotchiness of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hazza,” he said, sniffing. “I wish it could turn out well, I just can’t help but think it won’t.”

Harry shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do but hope.”

Louis turned his head away. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll see you.”

“Promise.” Louis said, his voice sounding much more childlike than usual. 

“I promise.”

Louis’ mum came back in again, looking relieved that Louis wasn’t crying anymore. 

“The doctors say you’re all set,” she said, touching Louis’ arm lightly. “Let’s go home.”

They left, and Harry followed moments later, purposefully taking the stairs so that he wouldn’t be in the elevator with them. They deserved a family moment, so that his mum could clear some of her confusion up.

Harry walked slowly to the subway station, letting people rush past him, their minds focused on business, things they ‘had’ to do. Everything had fallen apart, and now nothing seemed necessary anymore. What more could he mess up by not fulfilling his ‘responsibilities’ that he used to ‘have’ to do?

One person shoved past him, muttering about slow walkers and needing to get to work.

Harry didn’t say anything to them, he let them shove him out of the way, and he just kept walking at his slow pace until he finally got on the train, sitting silently in the corner seat until his stop.

He got home fairly quickly, and his parents still hadn’t gotten home yet. That was fortunate, so he wouldn’t have to talk about the hospital visit. He crumpled up his note and tossed it out.

Opening the fridge, Harry sighed. There was barely anything in it, so he grabbed a weird, twisted looking carrot from the vegetable and tossed it on the counter, smirking as he recalled Louis’ brief obsession with the food from a few years before.

Harry tried to find a peeler, but ended up having to use a sharp knife to take off the dirty outer skin. He was peeling it angrily, thinking about the trouble the kids were causing his friends.

When the knife slipped and sliced a harsh red line across his palm, Harry hissed and dropped the carrot and knife, moving over to the sink to rinse off his hand. The water burned across the cut- it was only slightly deeper than a paper cut, but it bled profusely. 

Once he’d cleaned the cut, he stared down at his hand. He wondered why a little thing like a cut could heal in a week when a word tossed across a hall or an injured friend could burn for so much longer. In comparison, it made small, normal injuries seem so simple, so immaterial. It didn’t even really hurt- it certainly didn’t hurt as badly as his life.

Harry picked up the skinned carrot and left the kitchen, leaving the knife and carrot skin on the counter, not wanting to pick up the knife again. The thoughts spilling through his head scared him. Harry was the type to pick at a scab until it turned back into a wound, mainly because the dull, warm pain gave him a sort of masochistic pleasure. He didn’t want to give himself the chance to push at this cut on his palm until it made him forget his issues, make him believe that a little cut was the worst thing in the world, even just for a moment.

So he retreated to his room and stuck a bandage on the cut, eating the carrot as he started doing homework. His hand stung and kept distracting him, his pencil pressing against the wound.

When his parents finally did get home, he rushed downstairs and cleaned up the carrot peels, tossing the knife in the sink. They looked happy, luckily. 

“Hello, Harry,” his mum said cheerily. “How was school?”

“It was fine.”

“We kind of ate on the way home, do you mind making something for yourself?” she asked. “There’s spaghetti.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “That’s fine by me.”

“Thanks, honey,” she said, patting his arm before heading up the stairs.

Harry started making his dinner, singing to himself under his breath as he waited for the spaghetti to cook. The evening went absurdly normal- no calls from the school, no yelling matches, just quiet.

Harry considered faking sick and missing school, but he ended up trudging into school at the same time as usual. Niall and Liam were in his first class already, and they both glanced briefly around, checking for the teacher, before both leaping up and hugging him.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Liam said. “Or, well, seen you and been able to talk to you.”

“Zayn’s been keeping us up to date…but are you really okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I’m fine.”

Liam’s eyes flicked up and down him as if trying to pick out any obvious signs of trouble. “He said you three aren’t allowed to see each other anymore?”

“Yeah…but now Louis’ suspended, so maybe they’ll let Zayn and I walk together, since two people can’t be a gang.”

“Hopefully,” Liam said. “But you never know.”

“Wait, why’s Louis suspended, what did I miss?” Niall looked between Liam and Harry confusedly. 

“You didn’t hear?” Liam asked. “He decked Henry Morris.”

“Are you serious?” Niall asked, grinning. “That’s hilarious.”

“Right? But apparently he broke his finger.”

“Yeah, he did,” Harry agreed. “I went to the hos-”

Harry couldn’t finish his sentence because he was suddenly falling, stumbling backwards. Zayn’s arms were firmly trapping Harry’s arms to his side, and his face was pressed into the side of Harry’s head. Harry almost fell, but he managed to stay on two feet.

“Um, hey, Zayn,” Liam said.

Zayn let go, looking slightly embarrassed. “I heard a few kids on the bus talking about how some people were going to jump you, and that they were sad they were missing it….”

“Oh, Louis knocked out the ring leader, so…” Harry smiled. “I’m fine.”

Zayn closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “I’m glad.”

Liam and Niall suddenly darted to their seats, seeing the teacher enter. Zayn stayed beside Harry, staring at the teacher as if challenging him to say something about them standing together.

“Class is going to begin soon, please sit down,” they said calmly, and Harry listened, sitting in his isolated seat and taking out his books for the class.

Zayn stuck beside him for as much of the day as he could- finally he had to dash off, about to be late to a class he had a big test in, and Harry had to walk to his last period alone. Zayn gave him a brief hug before he ran off, reminding Harry to scream if anybody attacked him. Nobody bothered him on the way, fortunately. When he left the class at the end of the day, he was slightly surprised that Zayn wasn’t coming running around the corner towards him, but he shrugged it off and started walking in the stream of students.

When he was about to round the corner to the bus, a crowd in the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he followed a trickle of students to the side parking lot, where a circle of noisy students were gathered.

He realized quickly that it was a fight of some kind, as the people towards the middle were egging the center people on, and the ones on the outside were standing on their tiptoes, laughing and craning their necks as they caught glimpses of what was happening in the middle.

Harry pushed lightly through; his fear increasing as people let him through, snickering slightly. He finally burst into the opening in the middle, a strangled sound coming out of his mouth the second he did. Zayn was lying on the pavement at the middle, trying to sit up as Matt Carlson kept kicking him in the chest to push him back down.

Matt stopped and turned towards Harry with a smirk. “Come to collect your boyfriend?”

Harry didn’t answer and instead looked towards Zayn. He was bloody and bruised, but didn’t look permanently injured. Zayn struggled to his feet, clapping a hand to his mouth to keep from vomiting. Harry reached out towards him, but Henry grabbed his wrist from the crowd. 

“If he’s just your friend, let him handle himself,” Henry said.

Harry looked back at Zayn, wanting desperately to help his friend. Zayn gave a slight shake of his head, wiping some of the blood from under his nose.

Harry watched Zayn limp from the circle, the crowd parting to let him through. Harry went after him, not wanting to tempt the riled-up crowd into doing anything to him as well. Zayn headed into the school, and Harry glanced at the buses about to leave before dashing after him, following him into the nurse’s office.

The nurse gasped at Zayn’s appearance, ushering him to one of the cots.

“What happened?”

She started wiping at his face with sterile pads, cleaning off the blood and grime. 

Zayn was still breathing heavily, but he managed to answer. “They’ve been trying to make me admit that I’m Harry’s boyfriend for weeks, and today they saw me hug him, so they decided to try to beat it out of me… I think they want final proof that Harry should be kicked out of the school.”

“Did you tell them you were?” the nurse asked, shaking her head at Zayn’s torn shirt. 

“Well, no, because I’m not,” Zayn said. “Can I have some ice, my side hurts.”

She nodded and leaned over to a small freezer, taking an ice-pack out and handing it to him.

“This is because of me?” Harry asked. “Again?”

“It’s not your fault,” Zayn said. “I knew they were trying to find ‘proof’, so I shouldn’t have hugged you.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Harry said. “In any other situation, that wouldn’t be the consequence of hugging your friend.”

Zayn shrugged. “I’m not that hurt. A few cuts and bruises…I’ll live.”

“Stop escorting me,” Harry said.

Zayn sighed. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

“This isn’t worth it,” Harry said. “I’m not going to let any of you get hurt for my sake any more.”

“You can’t control me,” Zayn said. “I can walk beside you if I want to.”

Harry shook his head. “Zayn, please.”

“No. I’m not going to stop.”

“Does the school know about this yet?” the nurse asked suddenly, pressing a bandage to a cut on Zayn’s arm. 

“Maybe, but they don’t give a shit,” Zayn said. “I mean, a hoot.”

The nurse shook her head. “The administration needs to fix some of their priorities. The health and welfare of students should be more important than whatever their issues with homosexuality are.”

“Well, I guess that’s just not going to happen,” Harry said.

“Do you want me to call your parents to bring you home? I think the buses have left,” the nurse said, already reaching for the phone. “Harry, what’s your mum’s phone number?”

“Um, my parents can bring him home,” Zayn said quickly. “That’ll be fine.”

The nurse met Zayn’s eyes briefly, perhaps wondering why he offered so quickly.

“Okay.”

Zayn’s mum drove over and picked them up. Zayn told her the actual story, not leaving out any details. Throughout the whole thing, Harry couldn’t help but wish that his relationship with his parents was like that, open and sharing. 

“See you tomorrow,” Zayn said as Harry jumped out of the car at his house.

Harry glanced back at him, taking in the cuts and contusions again before nodding slightly and walking away, entering his house quickly.

He stood in the kitchen a long time, taking deep breaths until his pulse returned to normal. He didn’t really have control of himself; his hands were shaking violently and he couldn’t focus his thoughts on any one thing.

Everything kind of blurred together, and Harry found himself leaning against the stove, knife in hand, with a line of bright red down his forearm. He finally could focus, the world clear around him. Suddenly, all he had to worry about was this cut, and he could handle it, he could wash it, he could heal it, and the pain distracted him from everything else.

He slid down the stove until he was sitting. He sat there for a long time, until the blood dried and darkened slightly. It was then, when the initial pain waned, that he realized what he’d done and dropped the knife like it was hot, jumping to his feet and running to the sink. 

Once he’d covered the thin line with bandages, he stared down at it. He realized that of everything that had happened in the last few months, this felt the best. The simple sting and hot trickle of blood felt cathartic.

He closed his eyes, sighing. The pleasure was already disappearing, and he didn’t let himself pick up the knife again, he locked himself away in his room and tried to do his homework, his mind drifting off. His brain wouldn’t stop tormenting him, insisting that this was his fault, that his friends were getting hurt because of him.

Harry’s world was caving in around him, but he refused to let that affect the people he loved. He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but he would not let anyone else get hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

Zayn considered his life to be fairly decent. His family was in good condition- none of them hated each other, none of them were sick… his sisters were all obnoxious, but normal enough. They were well off, so they ate well and had a nice house. Zayn had been bullied out of three elementary schools because of his half-Pakistani descent. But then he’d found this school, made friends with Lou, Liam, Niall, and of course, Harry.

That had all been good for a few years. They were all incredibly close. Zayn would compare their relationships to brothers, but…

And then the idiotic kids at a school had found out that Harry was gay and everything went to shit. None of them knew how word had gotten out about it. Harry had told the four of them, and none of them had told the other kids. Maybe the wrong conversation had been overheard, or maybe the students had guessed.

But Zayn couldn’t help but wonder, why Harry? If the other students had guessed his sexuality, why had they assumed Harry to be gay? All five of them acted the same, so why would Harry be seen differently? So Zayn thought that it had to have been an overheard conversation, since the students wouldn’t think only one of their group was gay. 

Things had been getting progressively worse. Now that Zayn was the only one escorting Harry, it made him an obvious target: first, he was walking around school with a gay guy, second, he had no backup anymore, and third, he walked by himself after dropping Harry at class.

So everyday, Zayn had to deal with jeers and rude shouts in the hallway- always when he’d already dropped Harry off, so he was all alone. He’d lost all of his friends other than Harry and Louis. Poor Niall and Liam were being monitored like criminals on parole, so he never saw them anymore. And he would see Louis, but the teachers were refusing to let them near each other, claiming that they were bad influences on one another. Their ‘proof’ was Louis’ outburst from a month ago. Him punching a bully was, to them, proof that he and all of his friends were terrible children.

Occasionally the students would get riled up and hit him as he walked by, laughing and talking as they did it, like it was all normal. His family had noticed him acting a little differently- less animated, much less happy to go to school- but they didn’t push the issue. Harry hadn’t noticed anything, luckily. Zayn made sure to put on an extra perfect façade for him. He thought the façade had been torn down after Harry found him getting beaten up, but a shrug and a smile convinced him it was a one time thing, brought on by rumors of them being together.

Zayn jumped off of his bus the instant it stopped, moving into the school. He tried to get to his locker before Harry arrived so that he could get him to his class as soon as possible.

Somebody kicked him in the back of his knee as he walked, making his step falter for a moment.

“Ten points!” Someone shouted, slightly farther down the hall.

Zayn glanced around. Everyone had sadistic smiles across their faces. Another person punched him in between the shoulder blades- Zayn gritted his teeth and kept walking, slightly faster.

“Ten points?” the puncher asked.

“Five!” Somebody yelled.

Zayn ducked his head down, hiding his grimace. They’d invented a game now. 

Zayn was never sure whether it would be better to take the blows or dodge them, but he usually ended up taking them no matter what. Sometimes he felt so angry that he just wanted to punch them, ‘pull a Louis’. But he never did.

News of this new game spread quickly, subtly, in laughs and quiet comments accompanied by snickers and smirks.

Zayn overheard one conversation in which two people were debating the point system. The girl thought a shot to the head or crotch should be worth fifty points, but the boy thought that a hit in the groin should be a hundred, and one to the head only forty. They didn’t bother quieting their voices as he walked by- one of them flicked him in the ear, even.

Zayn wondered if the points had value- would the person who accumulated the most points be rewarded with something? However the game worked, it caused the physical assault to increase exponentially until Zayn had to start wearing long sleeves, even in heat, to hide bruises from his family and Harry.

Harry asked him about his sudden affinity for long sleeves only a week after he started wearing them exclusively.

“It’s weird,” Harry said. “You’ve always hated long-sleeved shirts.”

“You’re always wearing them, too,” Zayn said.

It was true- for a month or so, since about the time when Zayn had gotten beat up, Harry hadn’t shown his arms once. 

“I’ll wear short sleeves if you do,” Zayn said, trying to gauge if Harry was hiding something.

Concern flitted across Harry’s face briefly. “I’m good.”

Zayn frowned, wondering if Harry really was hiding something. Maybe he was being assaulted, but keeping up the same kind of façade that Zayn was. But no- Zayn had been too careful about escorting him; he knew that nobody had been given the chance to attack Harry.

Zayn did his best to go to school even when he got sick. But on one morning in late May, a high fever kept him home.

They day passed terribly slowly- he kept worrying about Harry, waiting until the end of school when he could call Harry and be reassured by the sound of his voice.

He was wearing only pajama bottoms when Harry turned up at his house. His mum let him in, telling him to head up to Zayn’s room. Zayn had been sleeping, rather fitfully, when Harry walked into his room.

“Hey, when I called, your mum said you’re pretty sick, so I decided to vi…what’s on your arms?”

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Zayn’s arm towards him.

“You’re covered in bruises,” Harry said weakly. “What happened?”

Zayn was just waking up, and he jerked his arm away. “Nothing.”

Harry gave him a slight push, making him open his eyes and see Harry’s serious glare. 

“What happened?” he repeated.

“It’s not that bad,” Zayn said, looking at his arm. “Not really.”

“Is it from school?” Harry asked.

Zayn nodded, sitting up in his bed, tucking his legs underneath himself. 

“Zayn,” Harry said quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t need to worry about me, just worry about yourself,” Zayn said. “I don’t matter.”

“You do matter.”

“No, not in this. This is about you,” Zayn said. 

“Yeah, it is, and this is my fault. You’re still getting hurt because of me!” Harry exclaimed.

“I don’t care.”

“I care,” Harry said. “I care.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly before jumping up. “I have to go home.”

“Harry…” Zayn said tiredly as Harry rushed out of the room. The boy ignored him, continuing out.

Zayn lay back down, pressing his face into the bed, wondering how mad Harry was. And there was still that little suspicion, deep in his gut, that Harry was hiding something under his sleeves, too.

Harry rolled up his sleeves once he was securely home, in his room. The innumerable, thin scars covering his forearms made him wince. He’d let himself get out of control. But it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t hurting anyone. The little lines he drew weren’t doing anything in the long run.

His fingers found the most recent cuts- only a few days old. Tracing the tingling lines, he pursed his lips slightly, enjoying the sensation. 

He didn’t even think about it anymore. This wasn’t about thought; it was about feeling something simple, something pure and just so tiny. It didn’t affect anything, yet it distracted him from all of the things that could affect him, that were affecting him.

Harry kept the knife in his sock drawer, a sad attempt at keeping himself from reaching for it on impulse. No matter what, he would kneel beside the drawer, pulling the knife from under the socks carefully.

Even now, as his fingers curled around the black handle of the knife, he wasn’t thinking. It was instinct now. He no longer felt weird or wrong doing it. On the contrary, it was the only thing that felt right.

The best part was watching blood seep out of the thin lines, pool and gather at the crease in his elbow. It was scarlet, and so deeply perfect that it always managed to draw a sigh from his lips.

Once he’d sketched four lines, progressively deeper, he stopped, standing up to go and clean it off. The sting of peroxide, the soothing sensation of antibacterial goo…it all combined to make the experience so perfect.

He rolled his sleeves back down, and immediately thoughts about Zayn and school flooded back in, reminding him why he was doing this. He’d never had to do it twice- usually the remaining sting relaxed him, made him forget the bad things for at least a while.

Harry tried digging his fingers against the cuts through his shirt, through the bandages. He realized then that he was crying, the tears darkening his sleeve. 

He found the knife from behind him, holding it in front of him, looking down at it, taking a breath. His breath started getting faster as his brain started throwing things at him, reminding him of Louis’ broken finger, Zayn’s secrets, the bullies, the bruises littering Zayn’s arms, the misunderstanding teachers, everything, all of the things that were hurting him, hurting the people he loved.

The knife ripped his shirt, revealing his red forearms through the frayed fabric. Harry wasn’t really sure what he was doing, why his mind was pushing, pushing, pushing him to dig in, deeper, deeper, deeper.

Harry yanked the knife away from his arm with a gasp, the intense pain registering in the back of his mind. The blood didn’t slowly ease out; it flowed, staining his shirt, his pants.

Harry did nothing but stare down at his arm, watching the blood pour out. He swallowed hard, finally realizing that this was deep, this wasn’t a little slice into his skin, this was real, this was serious. 

He threw the knife away, gasping at the clatter of it hitting the ground. His free hand was clutching his bleeding arm, the blood staining his pale fingertips. He finally acted, rushing for the bathroom, thrusting his arm under a stream of water, trying to wash away the dark reminder of how messed up he and his life had become.

The water burned, and as he started wrapping his entire forearm in gauze, he realized he was almost hyperventilating.

He paused in wrapping, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t that bad. It would heal, and he could move on, forget. 

Once he’d thrown out his ruined clothes and cleaned the stained floor of his room, he laid down on his bed. He’d shoved the knife deep into the sock drawer, mentally forbidding himself from using it again.

But the pain- not from his arm, but from his guilt, his self hatred, his anger, persisted, and he knew that, even if he didn’t really want to, he would do it again. Because that pain made him need to.


	6. Chapter 6

Zayn and Harry stayed after school one day to finish a quiz that neither of them had managed to complete during the class. Once they had finished and turned in the quizzes, the teacher left them and so they started waiting for the late buses to arrive. 

The wait was fairly long, and they spent most of it talking about the lives they’d been living as of late. 

“I’m so sick of it,” Harry said, absentmindedly rubbing his scars through his shirt sleeve. “It’s really not fair to have to hide who you are for fear of being persecuted.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Zayn murmured, nodding.

“No you don’t,” Harry said, turning towards Zayn, his eyes clearing into anger. “You don’t have a clue! I hate when people say shit like that, like they know what I’m feeling, what I think. Just don’t say anything.”

“I just…understand, okay?” Zayn said, shrugging. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Of course it offended me! You’re a heterosexual, normal male; you have nothing to hide out of fear.”

Zayn stood up abruptly and leaned over the gap between their desks, pressing his mouth roughly to Harry’s. The other boy sat still for a moment before leaning up into the kiss, pushing back with the same intensity. When Harry felt Zayn’s hands tangle into his hair, he realized what they were doing and jumped up and away, his eyes wide.

They stared at each other, identically terrified expressions on their faces. Harry wasn’t sure how long they stood there- it felt like a life time of staring wordlessly. The door to the classroom made a light thump like someone was opening it, and they both flinched and moved to leave, not saying anything as they left for their individual buses.

Harry paced nervously as soon as he got home- the constant, rhythmic thudding of his feet on his bedroom floor was at least somewhat soothing. It helped his headache fade slightly- it still pounded violently, the pain growing exponentially as he thought harder about what had happened.

Did Zayn mean anything by that? Was it all some kind of sick joke to him, or did it actually have some kind of meaning behind it? Was Zayn gay? Did Zayn like him?

The whole thing was completely dreadful. He couldn’t deal with it; he just wanted to rip his head off with his bare hands.

Why had he kissed back? He should have shoved Zayn away, told him that being gay did not mean liking every guy in sight. But it felt so perfect- something had lit inside of him, and it had exploded into a pure, raw energy that made him want to kiss Zayn with his tongue and teeth and every ounce of strength he had…

Harry’s parents noticed that he was acting oddly, barely eating dinner and keeping a ‘terribly worried’ expression on his face.

Apparently the worry was completely deserved, if not for the reasons he’d imagined. The moment he walked into school the next day, he was ushered into the office by a security guard. Zayn was already seated in the principal’s office, and he avoided Harry’s eyes determinedly.

The security guard seated him next to Zayn, obviously not caring about their awkwardness. The principal stared at them for a good five minutes, making them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“So,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back. “Will you admit it, or will I be forced to provide proof?”

“Admit what?” Zayn asked.

The principal pursed his lips. “So we’re doing this that way. Okay.”

Harry blinked. “What is this about?”

“Have you boys heard of the American ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy?”

Zayn stiffened noticeably- Harry didn’t know of the policy, and he sat awkwardly, looking at Zayn, who was visibly distressed.

“Our institution has a very similar policy,” the principal said. “And we are unfortunately going to hate to exercise our right to expel those who do not follow our pre-established moral code.”

“What have we done?” Harry exclaimed, glancing over at Zayn, noticing that he was paling rapidly but didn’t look very angry.

“We were notified that if we checked our security footage for a certain room at a certain time, we would find some rule breakers, and we found the two of you.”

Harry frowned, not understanding. “But when did we break a rule bad enough to be expelled?”

The principal sighed and opened a video file on his computer, the black and white feed vague. Harry didn’t realize that the two figures in the video were him and Zayn until one jumped up and abruptly kissed the still-seated person.

Zayn hissed a sharp breath, looking away from the screen.

Harry stared at the screen, dumbfounded as he watched his recorded self wriggling up and kissing Zayn forcefully. The principal stopped the tape as Harry’s hands started pulling Zayn closer into him, rising from his seat to get closer.

He shook his head. “Disgusting. This is why you are both being sent away from our proud institution. Transfer papers for the local public school will be provided, as this is not technically criminal, although it should be.”

“I’m so sorry,” Zayn said to Harry, his face showing how genuine he was being. “I had no idea this could happen.”

“Your parents are on their way to collect you and your respective papers.”

Harry wasn’t very proud of the rush of tears that suddenly came to his eyes.

“Don’t tell my parents why, please!” Harry said, the tears escalating into sobs. “Tell them I got in a fight, anything but this.”

“Your parents have a right to know what kind of thing they have raised,” the principal said. “And I would appreciate it if you did not make a scene.”

“Please, please don’t tell them!” Harry begged, jumping up. “I’ll do anything, just don’t tell them!”  
“You are no longer a students here; please wait in the main office.”

Zayn stood up silently, ducking around Harry to head for the main office. Harry followed him, ignoring the gasp the secretary made at his crying.

Both sets of parents were in the main office talking to a vice principal when Zayn and Harry slumped in, Harry still crying.

Harry watched his parents turn towards him, anger burning across both of their faces. Zayn’s parents turned, their faces somewhat sad, but not angry. Zayn’s parents walked towards Zayn, shrugging.

“You’re mature,” his mom said. “You’ll be able to deal with private school. And it’s not a bad offense, it won’t spoil your record.”

Zayn smiled, hugging his mother tightly. “Thank you, mum.”

His father smiled, patting Zayn on the shoulder. “You should have told us, you know. We don’t care, obviously, but it’d be better to hear it from you rather than the vice principal.”

“Sorry,” Zayn said, a small smile quirking up his lips. “I wasn’t sure how you would react.”

Harry stared at his own parents, listening to Zayn’s family’s discussion and knowing that his own parents would not react quite the same.

Sure enough, when they finally spoke, it was furious and cold.

“You have until tomorrow to move out,” his father said under his breath, barely audible. “I can’t believe you would do this to us.”

“You’re disgusting,” his mother muttered, completely ignoring him as she left the office, gesturing for her husband to follow. “A complete disappointment.”

Harry watched them leave, his tears returning with a vengeance.

Zayn’s parents stared at him with careful eyes. “Are you okay?” his mom asked.

Harry nodded weakly. “I’m fine.”

“They’ll get over it,” his father said confidently. “You’re their son.”

Harry nodded again, realizing that they hadn’t heard his father’s ultimatum.

Zayn cast him another sorrowful glance as he and his family left. Harry picked up his discarded transfer papers from the front desk and left, seeing his family’s car turning out of the parking lot without him.

Zayn’s own family left a moment after, not seeing him, still stranded in front of the school. Harry started walking, the morning sun glinting down at him mockingly, the beautiful taunting him.

His parents glared at him when he got home. “Pack. Leave everything that belongs to us.”

Harry nodded wordlessly, heading for his room. He threw his clothes in a backpack, grabbing his laptop and a few other things before leaving. Why wait the night, if every night from here on would not be in this house?

He purposefully left all the family pictures he’d had in his room, stacking them up on the floor before stomping on them. The glass from the picture frames shattered, and his room was left completely neat but with a pile of broken frames in the center. 

His bag was a little heavy, as he’d taken a few of his favorite books, but once he left the house for the last time, it felt lighter. He remained completely stoic until he sat down in a park, tightening the straps on his bag so someone couldn’t slip it off if he slept. 

The thud as he sat down on the bench broke his calm and he abruptly realized that he was legitimately homeless. A few random people walked by as he was crying, and they took a large detour so they wouldn’t have to walk near him.

The day passed fairly quickly- once he composed himself, he pulled out a book to read so that he would look more normal. Sleeping was strange- it wasn’t particularly cold, luckily, but in the middle of the night he was woken up by a rustling in bushes near him that turned out to be a deer.

A week went by like that- he had some money, so he used it sparingly to eat. He figured he’d get some kind of job, and he checked stores and newspapers for postings about openings, finding none.

Harry was sitting on his bench, realizing with a jolt that he truly looked homeless- he’d changed clothes and managed to get a shower at a gym he had a membership at- but his face was haggard and much thinner, and his hair was pretty gross from lack of proper shampoo.

It was as he was coming to this realization that the one and only Zayn Malik strolled by, walking his dog. Zayn glanced absentmindedly at the person on the bench, his subconscious acknowledging that their bag and appearance warranted homelessness. He slowed down, digging in his pockets for change. It was pretty dark out- eight thirty p.m. or so- and he figured giving some money might help this homeless person find a safe place to stay.

He found a few coins and turned to hand them to the man, and he almost didn’t realize in the dim light that the person was Harry. 

Zayn gasped when he realized, pulling his hand back, clutching the coins.

“Harry?”

Harry lifted his head, his identity completely obvious once he did so. “Hey, Zayn,” Harry said, smiling slightly. “Alms for the poor?”

Zayn gaped. “Your parents kicked you out? When?”

“As soon as they found out,” Harry said tiredly. “I expected it, I suppose.”

Zayn frowned and took out his phone, twisting his dog’s leash around his wrist so he could use his hand. 

“Hey, mum…Harry’s parents kicked him out and he’s apparently living in a park…Yeah, could we?…Thank you…”

Harry listened to Zayn’s half of the conversation slightly blearily, not really registering anything.

There was a pause, obviously his mum talking. “Of course the guest bedroom,” Zayn hissed. “Mum!…Bye.”

Zayn hung up and put the phone back in his pocket, holding his dog’s leash normally again. “You’re staying at my house,” Zayn said, gesturing for Harry to stand up. “Let’s go.”

Harry stood up, spitting out pointless arguments and protestations. Zayn ignored all of them, guiding Harry silently back to his house.

Both of Zayn’s parents were waiting in their kitchen when Harry and Zayn walked in.

“I can’t believe your parents put you on the streets!” Zayn’s mom exclaimed, jumping to her feet and hugging Harry tightly. “Why didn’t you call us?”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably.

“You can stay in our guest bedroom, it’s at the top of the stairs and all the way at the end of the hallway to the right,” his father said, smiling. “Do you still have your school transition forms?”

Harry nodded, fishing them out of his bag and handing them over. “My parents wouldn’t sign them.”

“It’s okay, you’re sixteen, so it’s your decision whether or not to continue school,” his mom said cheerily, grabbing a pen. “Well, actually, it’s not your decision, because we’re going to make you go back to school. Zayn needs someone to keep him out of trouble. Just sign!”  
Harry nodded and signed in several spots, making up a signature. “Thank you.”

“We’ll just pop by tomorrow and deliver these to the school. We visited today to set up Zayn’s schedule, it’s actually quite nice, and they offer higher level classes,” she said. “We’ll try to get your schedules to be similar so the transition won’t be as rough, okay?”

Harry nodded, shifting uncomfortably.

“Do you want something to eat?” Zayn mumbled.

Harry shook his head, not wanting to be a bother. 

“Of course he does,” his father said. “When did your parents kick you out, anyway?”

“Last Thursday,” Harry muttered, shuffling his feet around.

“What?” his mom gasped. “You’ve been living in a park for a week?”

Harry nodded.

Both parents bustled about getting him food until he had too much food, and he ate almost all of it, his stomach reacting poorly to the sudden re-introduction of full meals.

They ushered him to the guest bedroom after he ate, insisting that he needed sleep in a real bed. He did everything obediently, not wanting to accidentally offend them.

He and Zayn got to go to their first day of school the next week- it was strange, to go to a brand new school after spending so long in another. Joey- from the coffee shop oh so long ago- happened to see them standing awkwardly in one of the hallways. They were trying desperately to find their first classroom, having been dumped in this hallway by some secretary.

Joey ran up to them excitedly, dragging a red headed girl behind him. “Harry!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Harry sighed and told a condensed version of the entire story, shrugging at the conclusion. 

“That’s awful that your parents kicked you out,” the girl said, her light brown eyes wide. “I’m Verity, by the way.”

“And you’re the kiss-er?” Joey asked Zayn. “What’s your name, I didn’t catch it.”

“Zayn,” Zayn said quietly. “You’re Joey, right?”

Joey nodded, smiling. “Well, now that we’re all acquainted…uh…actually, I didn’t really have an end to that sentence. Are you two lost?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, showing him the schedule. “We don’t know where this is.”

“Oh, it’s like three doors down, just there,” Verity said. “That’s a good teacher, too!”  
“Thanks,” Zayn said, following Harry down to the classroom. Joey bounced after them after saying goodbye to Verity.

“I have the same class!” he said happily. “It’s really fun!”

Harry smiled weakly, stepping into the brightly lit classroom. Joey guided them to a two-person table.

“They’re the only two seats open!” Joey exclaimed. “I guess it’s fortunate, that you get to sit together, being a couple and all. The teachers don’t usually let couples sit together, since it’s distracting.”

“We’re not a couple,” they both said in unison, glancing uncomfortably at each other.

“Oh,” Joey said, blinking his large blue eyes several times. “Awk.”

“What?” Zayn asked, frowning.  
“Oh, do private school kids not say that?” he asked, tilting his head. “Awk. Awkward. That was awkward. Jeez, if you guys don’t know slang, you’re going to struggle a bit.”

“The teachers speak in slang?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“No!” Joey exclaimed. “Well, some of them use slang, but no! It’s just common in the hallways among students.”

Harry nodded, relieved. He sat down at the desk uncomfortably, pulling out a notebook and a pencil, the only things he’d thought to bring. 

Their classes passed rather uneventfully- by the end of the day, every person in the school knew that they’d been kicked out of Catholic school for kissing, and they hadn’t gotten a single negative word or comment. 

At the end of the day, a boy with short, light brown hair came up to them and introduced himself as Charlie, the name ringing a slight bell in Harry’s mind.

“I really hope that this school doesn’t turn out as bad as the last one!” he said happily. “Joey told me about how those guys attacked you in the coffee shop, and I’ve heard about all the rest, of course. It’s really hard to believe that there’s such a difference between the two schools…I’ve never gotten any hate here.”

“Oh!” Harry said, finally connecting pieces in his mind. “You’re Joey’s gay friend Charlie!”  
Charlie laughed. “I’d rather not be referred to as ‘Joey’s gay friend’, but yeah, I guess that’s me.”

“Sorry, I just realized,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his shoes. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too- both of you,” Charlie said, smiling as he walked away from them. “Good luck!”

Zayn and Harry didn’t speak on the bus ride home- they sat in seats opposite each other, both facing steadfastly forward.

Zayn’s parents excitedly pestered them for details about school, and once they were finally satisfied, Harry retreated to ‘his’ bedroom.

The first full week of public school passed calmly- they were slightly surprised to find that the work load was pretty similar, the only main difference being the lack of a religion class. Harry felt guilty about it- what didn’t he feel guilty about anymore?- but he still cut, now with a stolen kitchen knife every time he showered. He never bandaged the cuts- they were fairly shallow- but he still wore long-sleeved shirts all the time. It had become a terrible habit that helped him calm down and kept him from thinking about where things had gone wrong. 

“We never talk anymore,” Zayn complained- it was rather random, in the middle of the day on a Saturday. They were standing in the kitchen, alone- Zayn’s parents were out at some dinner thing.

Harry shrugged, getting a drink out of the fridge.

“See!” Zayn exclaimed. “You just brush everything I say off, and I’ve been doing the same to you any time you do talk to me, which isn’t often!”  
“I feel uncomfortable, okay?” Harry said, holding up his hands defensively.

“Why?”

“Obviously you know why!” Harry said. “You know, maybe we should pretend that kiss never happened!”  
“I don’t want to pretend it never happened,” Zayn said. “You can’t just brush over the imperfections in life.”

“It never happened,” Harry said simply. “You want me to talk and not feel uncomfortable, so we’re pretending it never happened.”

Harry stormed out.

Zayn watched him leave, something deep inside him ripping just a bit more. It had taken all of his courage to kiss Harry- he’d been wanting to for ages- and now Harry wanted to move past it. Zayn knew he would never be able to gather his courage again, so he supposed that was it. Any chance he had to be with Harry had been swept out to sea.

Zayn noticed with a sigh that Harry had left his drink on the counter next to the fridge, so he picked it up and headed up to Harry’s room, knocking lightly before entering.

Harry was changing his shirt, and Zayn was about to leave awkwardly, already apologizing, when he noticed dozens of lines along Harry’s arms and torso. 

Zayn put the drink down on a dresser and walked towards Harry, tugging the shirt Harry was trying to put on out of his hands.

“What are these?” Zayn asked, examining Harry’s arms intently.

“Get out, Zayn,” Harry snapped, pulling his arms away. “I’m changing.”

“Do you cut yourself?” Zayn asked, horrified. “Harry!”  
“Get. Out.” Harry said tersely, pulling on a shirt.

“Harry,” Zayn said, softer. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Zayn, I really don’t,” Harry said. “My life has turned into a nightmare, and I don’t know how to deal.”

Zayn hugged him abruptly, his hands clinging tightly to Harry’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Harry hugged back, tears burning at his eyes angrily.

Zayn’s mother cleared her throat at the door. “We’re home.”

Harry jumped away from Zayn sheepishly, scrubbing his eyes with his sleeve until they were satisfactorily dry.

Zayn left the room quickly, returning to his own room with a mumbled apology to his mother that she shrugged off with a smile.

Harry sat down on the guest bed heavily, crossing his arms around himself. Now that Zayn knew…he’d have to put up the happiest façade he could muster. That would do the trick. If he acted constantly happy and excited, letting nothing through, then Zayn wouldn’t push at Harry’s secret again.

Harry was good at façades. He could fool anyone, even his best friend. A smile could go a long way.


	7. Chapter 7

Of course Harry didn’t stop doing it. He couldn’t. He was too far gone, it was an addiction. He knew it was- he knew it was bad, but he couldn’t stop it. The shower method was smooth and easy, all the blood and evidence got washed away in moments.

The smiling worked- everyone noticed, even the people he’d only met a few days earlier. They would glance at him with surprise and comment that he looked happier, healthier. He smiled wider in return, replying that he didn’t feel any different.

Zayn had noticed, and every time Harry said something happy or smiled brighter than usual, Harry could see Zayn smiling out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t let that slow him down, though. He just kept smiling brighter and brighter, while inside he started feeling worse and worse.

People always claimed that smiling would make you feel happier, but he just kept feeling worse. He knew that he was hiding things from his only friends, and it was slowly ripping him to pieces inside.

What hurt the most was knowing that he could fool them so easily. They were his closest friends, and yet none of them had any idea how he was really feeling. Not even Zayn, who knew everything about him.

It took a while, but Zayn stopped asking him if he was still doing it. Harry’s insistent reassurances and smiles put him off the hunt.

Harry was walking ‘home’ alone much later than usual one day- he’d missed the regular buses as well as the late buses due to a meeting with an English teacher. They wanted him to enter a writing contest, so he’d spent several hours with them trying to decide what type of writing to enter. The teacher had offered him a ride, but he’d turned it down automatically and headed for Zayn’s house.

It wasn’t that late when he headed out, but the walk was fairly long- maybe an hour of walking- so it started getting darker just as he got to the park that was maybe five minutes from the house.

There were still quite a few people wandering around, so the dark didn’t worry him too much. It was as he rounded a path into a thicker area of trees and was suddenly alone that his heart started beating faster. He shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling- the park was safe, there weren’t rabid animals or anything, it was a family place.

All the horrible feelings were suddenly a thousand times worse when a group of people rounded the path headed towards him. There were five boys, and for a moment Harry didn’t realize who they were, and then his eyes focused and he realized that they were the boys from his old school. 

He ducked his head and walked faster, making a path around them and hoping that they wouldn’t recognize him. He had a moment of relief where he thought they didn’t, but then he heard one of them say ‘Hey, isn’t that the fag who got kicked out?’ and his heart stopped. 

He could hear them stop walking and turn towards him, so he started running. He wasn’t exactly the best runner- he could run for a long time at a decent speed, but sprinting wasn’t his strong suit.

The boys’ feet pounded after him, and as one of their hands caught his backpack, he managed to twist out of it and keep going, only to be grabbed by his hair by another one of them.

“Why are you running, gay boy?” the hair-grabber said, yanking him so that he fell to the ground. 

Harry looked up at them, the circle of boys standing around them, trying to identify them by name. Their faces were shadowed by the backlight of the dimming sky, and he couldn’t make out any defining features.

The tallest one abruptly kicked him in the side and he curled up with a grunt. Several other kicks landed before he heard a woman shouting.

“Hey! Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The boys kept kicking after a glance, ignoring her.

“I have pepper spray, assholes, so get off of him and go home!” she shouted.

They paused for a moment before spitting on him and walking away moodily, huffing and whispering.

“Run!” she shouted, spraying pepper spray at their retreating feet. They obeyed, sprinting off into the woods.

The woman leaned over him, her face filled with concern. “Are you okay?”  
Harry sat up, brushing dirt out of his hair and standing up awkwardly before picking up his discarded backpack.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding weak and pitiful.

She tilted her head slightly, her ponytail slipping to the side. “Why were they doing that to you?”

Harry shrugged.

She blinked at him and adjusted her running shorts. “Do you know them?”

“They went to my old school,” Harry said.

“You should tell their principal!”

Harry laughed bitterly, briefly. “The principal hates me, he kicked me out.”

She pursed her lips. “Carry pepper spray.”

Harry smiled. “Sounds good.”

She gave a strange salute-wave and jogged off, her ponytail bouncing as she disappeared down the path.

Harry walked quicker then, reaching Zayn’s house within a few minutes. He brushed off his clothes before he entered, and made sure not to limp on his way in.

Zayn’s parents greeted him cheerily, asking a few curious questions about the English competitions.

“Are you okay? It’s really late!” Zayn exclaimed, glancing out of his room as Harry headed down the hall to his own room. 

“I stayed after to talk to Mrs. Ciretti about a competition,” Harry said, smiling brightly. “I’m fine.”

Zayn smiled back and went back into his room. Harry retreated to his room, closing the door and sinking down onto the bed. He let out a sigh, staring down at his hands. He still had a bit of dirt on his palms, residue from his fall to the ground. He brushed it off onto his jeans and sat still for a long time, holding his body rigid, trying to keep his hands from straying to the drawer that he kept the knife in.

He couldn’t do it, and on the way to the shower to clean off the boys’ spit, he clutched the knife tightly in his hand, keeping it hidden in the bundle of his pajamas he would change into afterwards.

Harry sets the knife down on the sink’s counter, just out of reach from the shower. He could break this addiction, he could be strong.

He showered for a long time, trying to let the scalding water wash away all of his anger and despair. He finally got out, his fingers slightly wrinkled, and got dressed quickly, brushing his hair violently. He did everything slightly harder, trying to make it hurt. He brushed his teeth up at the gums until they bled slightly, yanked the hairbrush through the tangles in his hair…

It wasn’t the same, though, and after he’d tossed all of his dirty clothes in the hamper and essentially run out of things to do, his hand drifted back towards the knife. He ended up leaning against the wall, his breath growing ragged as he stared down at the knife in his hands.

His hands were shaking violently, and for a long moment he rested the knife lightly against his forearm, not pressing in. With a shuddering breath he pushed and drew the knife firmly down his arm, throwing his head back with a muffled cry as the pain hit him. Adrenaline hitting him in a rush, he did the same to the other arm, the pain becoming his entire focus immediately, shoving out thoughts of the boys, his parents, anything.

Harry leaned over the sink, the knife clattering out of his hands as he panted, the blood spilling quickly from the long, deep cuts.

He didn’t realize that they were a little too deep for a few minutes- he couldn’t get them to stop bleeding, and it hurt much more than normal. He started crying, leaning back against the wall and pressing his arms against his chest to staunch the blood a little bit. He started sliding down the wall to sit, but realized that he felt woozy and wouldn’t have the energy or strength to stand back up if he sat down. 

Harry stood back up and paced in the small bathroom, willing his arms to stop bleeding, to stop hurting, for his body to stop shaking and feeling so weak. When his vision started blacking out and tunneling down to a small field of vision, he left the bathroom and made it the hall in front of Zayn’s room. His door was closed, and Harry was going to knock but he abruptly fell to his knees, his breath whooshing out. 

Zayn opened the door almost immediately, his face confused.

“Why are you kneeling?” Zayn asked, frowning. “And crying?”

Harry’s vision pooled into complete darkness and he slipped fully to the ground, his arms falling away from his chest and letting his blood-soaked arms and t-shirt show.

“Jesus Christ!” Zayn shrieked; his voice much higher than usual. “Harry!”  
The blood started making its way to the carpet, and Zayn fell to his knees beside Harry, his hands clutching at Harry’s face, trying to wake him up.

Zayn screamed for his parents, leaning over Harry and trying to use his own shirt to stop the bleeding.

His parents came fairly quickly, recognizing the sound of panic in their son’s voice.

“Oh, god,” his mom said, running for a phone.

His father went for the medical kit, rushing to bind the cuts and stop the bleeding. Zayn started crying, panic overriding any of his first aid instincts.

Harry lay unconscious through it all, his face devoid of any emotion in contrast to the others. Zayn’s mom’s face was filled with terror, Zayn’s with panic, and his father’s with determination. And Harry was just… empty.


	8. Chapter 8

The hospital room was starkly empty when Harry’s eyes fluttered weakly open. The walls were painted a disturbing blue that caused a dull ache at the back of his eyes, and they were unadorned with anything but a television screen. He tried turning his head to look around more, and found that the simple action was fairly exhausting. The beeping of a heart rate monitor reached his conscious awareness after a while, and after an even longer time, he finally observed the entire room and noticed a slumped figure in one of the chairs near his bed.

Harry stared at the person, not quite able to muster the energy to get up and go over to them. Instead he pulled his arms carefully out from under the blanket, noting the tug of an IV on his left arm. Shortly after that observation, he saw the thick bandages around both of his forearms and everything came rushing back to him in a wave, crashing over him abruptly.

The last thing he remembered was going to Zayn’s room for help, and then everything was dark. A few stray strings connected in his mind and he realized that the figure was Zayn, so he cleared his throat uncomfortably and spoke.

“Zayn?” he asked; his voice hoarse. “Zayn.”

The boy stirred slightly and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “What,” he said blearily, blinking slowly. He registered the sight before him and jumped up, suddenly vigorously awake. “Harry!”

Zayn rushed to the side of his bed, his eyes wide. “How do you feel?”

Harry blinked. “Tired.”

Zayn’s joyous face suddenly clouded into fury. “You have no right to be tired, you bastard, you’ve been sleeping for way too long! Why’d you go and do this to yourself, anyway?” Zayn jumped up, crossing his arms and huffing dramatically. He sank back down to his knees tiredly. “Do you want some water?”

Harry blinked again, his eyes wide. “I’m sorry.”

Zayn stared back at him for a moment before a nurse bustled in.

“You’re awake!” she said happily. “I’ll call the doctor.”

Zayn leaned back onto his heels. “There’s some legal guardianship issues going on,” he said. “Just to warn you ahead of time. The hospital demanded to know who your real parents are, so they were contacted. They…um…they didn’t come to visit you, but now the hospital is putting an inquiry in, since you’re a minor living with some random non-relatives instead of your parents. You might have to get an emancipation or something, but if they find your parents to be the guilty ones, my parents will try to adopt you.”

Harry laughed. “Adopt me? I’m sixteen!”

“So?” Zayn asked. “You’re not eighteen.”

The doctor entered with a flat expression on her face. She stood on the opposite side of the bed from Zayn and checked a few of the machines.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “Tired.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m Dr. Lorikan. You’ll also meet Dr. Howard, a psychologist. He’s on his way.”

“What do I need a psychologist for?” Harry asked, making a face.

Dr. Lorikan raised her eyebrows. “They’re considering keeping you in the hospital for a week or two, to ensure that you are stable mentally.”

Harry stayed silent for the remainder of the physical checks, other than a brief complaint when the doctor sent Zayn away.

Dr. Howard arrived just as Dr. Lorikan was about to leave, and they conversed quickly and quietly before Dr. Howard came towards Harry.

“Hello, Harry, I’m Dr. Howard,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake. Harry shook it quickly, withdrawing his hand back under the blanket quickly.

The doctor sat down heavily, taking out a notebook. “So what prompted you to try and take your own life?”

Harry blinked a few times, clearing his mind slightly. “What?”

“Was there some kind of catalyst or event that made you decide to attempt suicide?”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” Harry said, pushing himself into a more upright position. “Really.”

“So what was the purpose of that?” Dr. Howard asked, gesturing at his arms.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “It’s a bad habit.”

“You’ve done that before?” he asked.

“Not as severely.”

“Now, you’re acting very blasé about this, most people try to deny it, call it an accident.”

“My friend already found out before, I don’t care what stupid, irrelevant doctor knows.”

Dr. Howard frowned. “Your friend knew?”

“Yeah, and he thought I stopped,” Harry said, casting his gaze down. “I wanted to. I guess that’s another reason why I’m willing to tell you all this. I do want to stop.”

“That’s excellent, Harry,” Dr. Howard said. “That’s a good first step.”

“Am I going to have to live with my parents again?” Harry asked suddenly.

“We’re working with that situation,” Dr. Howard said. “From what your temporary guardians have said, your parents kicked you out, so they might be deemed unsuitable guardians for you.”

Harry sighed, relieved. “So I’ll be able to stay with Zayn’s parents?”  
“We don’t know.”

“Did my parents say anything when they heard I was here?” Harry asked.

Dr. Howard kept his face passive, but Harry saw a small flash of animosity in his eyes.

“They didn’t care, did they?” Harry asked, a small part of him feeling hurt despite his mind being set on not caring.

“Do your parents have anything to do with your ‘bad habit’?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

Dr. Howard questioned him for a long time, noting seemingly everything down in a notebook. The two doctors decided to keep him there for a few days until his body was back to full steam- apparently he’d had to get an emergency blood transfusion after his arrival.

The day he was released, he got to go home with the Maliks, fortunately. His parents were nowhere to be found, but the legal trouble was brimming on the horizon. 

Harry’s room was a mess- they’d gone through every possible hidey-hole for knives, and had obviously tried to clean up and failed. The kitchen knives were all stowed away in a bizarre little padlocked safe that looked fairly out of place in the kitchen. 

Harry didn’t mind all of the safety measures at all- anything to keep the urge, the addiction at bay.

Harry was sitting on his bed, fiddling with the white bandages on his forearms when Zayn knocked lightly, leaning through the open doorway.

“Can I come in?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Harry patted the bed beside him softly, and Zayn sat, folding his hands together.

“Do you think they’re going to let you stay here?” Zayn asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said quietly. “I hope so.”

“I wish everything could just be normal again,” Zayn said. “Before Liam and Niall were banned from being around, and when we still saw Louis, and…” he sighed. “I miss them the most of all the ‘normal’ stuff, I think. I’ve barely spoken to them since everything went crazy.”

“Do they know what happened?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said. “They heard the gossip about us, and somehow the news of your hospital stay got to our old school, too. Someone’s mom is a nurse or something. Liam’s called me frantically a few times, trying to get me to assure him that it’s all rumors.”

“Do you think we could manage to see them at a café or something? That would be really…nice,” Harry said. “It’s been so long.”  
“I’ll text them all,” Zayn said, smiling. “I think that would be good.”

Harry stood up, scratching at his bandages absentmindedly. “I’m thirsty.”

“Don’t scratch them,” Zayn said seriously, rising. “That must hurt.”

Harry looked down at himself, realizing what he was doing and lowering his arms. “Oh.”

Zayn frowned. “You don’t have control over yourself anymore, do you?”

Harry’s breath caught slightly. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll stop, though, right? For real this time?” Zayn asked; his eyes wide. “Please?”

“I’m going to try,” Harry said, turning away slightly.  
“I’m tired of this!” Zayn exclaimed. “I don’t want to spend every day wondering if you’re suicidal, if you’re depressed. I’m sick of all of my thoughts being centered around you, especially since I don’t understand why this is happening! Why can’t we just be normal?”

Harry flinched. “I’m not doing this on purpose! I didn’t choose to be like this, I didn’t think that I was going to end up a broken piece of crap boy!”

“I hate you!” Zayn yelled. “You ruin everything!”

Harry felt the rush of tears to his eyes at that, and he turned away completely. “Get out.”

Zayn yelled wordlessly, pressing the sides of his head with his hands. “Just get out of my head!”

“I’m sorry I’m such a fucking failure, okay, Zayn? Just leave, stop trying to act like I’m not a bloody burden,” Harry shouted, turning back towards Zayn as the tears in his eyes spilled over abruptly. “I don’t need any more people that hate me in my life, so just get out!”

Zayn’s face contorted slightly and then he shoved Harry into the bedroom wall harshly. Harry was about to hit him, but then Zayn was kissing him, pushing their bodies together, uncomfortably close for Harry’s sharp breaths and shaking hands. 

Harry clutched Zayn closer, needing that more than the space that he automatically searched for. Their noses bumped and their teeth clicked slightly, but neither could find the will to care, until Zayn abruptly leapt back, breaking away.

Zayn took a few breaths and then sat down on the ground, leaving heavily against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn said.

Harry sat down beside him, curling his knees to his chest. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Me, either,” Zayn said miserably. “But I’ve wanted to do that for ages, so I suppose that clears things up a bit.”

“What about the classroom thing?” Harry asked. “What was that?”

“I was trying to show you rather than tell you what my mind had been doing, but it didn’t work out very well, did it?” Zayn said. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

“You said you hated me just a minute ago.”

“I hate you for making me love you,” Zayn said, frowning at the confusing sentence. “I feel out of control.”

Harry turned towards Zayn, staring at his best friend. “We’re a mess.”

“Are you going to pretend that this never happened, too?” Zayn asked; his voice shallow.

“No,” Harry said. “I get it now.”

Harry stood up, offering his hand to Zayn to drag him to his feet, too, leaving them standing chest to chest, Harry just barely taller. Zayn leaned into Harry slightly, leaving their faces a tiny space apart. Harry smiled.   
“Aren’t you going to text the boys?” Harry asked, giving Zayn a slight push.

Zayn blushed and left, dragging out his cell phone.

Harry sat back down on his bed, staring at his bandages again. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening anymore, but it seemed like things could only go up from where they’d been.


End file.
